


Revival

by Velgamidragon



Series: Meta Encounters [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dead Friends, M/M, Partial Mind Control, Partner Betrayal, Past Lovers, Suicide Attempt, carwash siblings, implied daddy issues, unconscious kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velgamidragon/pseuds/Velgamidragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Wash's first encounter with the unnamed Freelancer-AI hunter, he's shot in the back by South and he's unconscious, left to die of blood loss or by the hunter's hands. Wash has no AI, but there's nothing to stop the Meta from scavenging his armor for equipment, and yet when he regains consciousness, he still possesses York's healing unit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revival

**Author's Note:**

> When I was rewatching the Recovery One mini-series and season 6 on the new Red vs. Blue channel, I realized that the Meta should have taken York's healing unit from Wash while Wash was bleeding out. It's not like he didn't have the time to search thoroughly (there was no timed charge obviously, because then Wash would be dead), and Wash was in no position to stop him, so why did Wash still have the healing unit?
> 
> Answer: Maine must have actually resurfaced and stopped the AIs from taking the healing unit, so that Wash wouldn't die, and because I am Mainewash trash, I say he was able to do that against Sigma, of all AI, because of his love for Wash.
> 
> This is also my first time writing like this, where I write in third person, but most of the story takes place in the present tense form. I usually write in the past tense, but this story seemed to demand this style.

The Meta was Sigma's project.

In his ambition to become human, he had the idea to gather all of the AI fragments of the Alpha AI and all he had to do was sacrifice the mind of one Agent Maine in order to have a means of collecting and hosting the pieces. It was not hard. Although Agent Maine was a tough son-of-a-bitch on the battlefield, he simply did not possess the strength of mind to control Sigma and keep him in check, to keep the _Director’s_ ambition in check. Agent Maine was completely helpless against the AI’s careful, clever mental manipulation. It was not hard at all. The result was that there was hardly anything left of Agent Maine inside his own head. 

It was the Meta that watched Agent Washington when he arrived at the Dakota twins’ location and it was the Meta who hummed with excitement when the AIs felt – and then saw – their eldest brother, Delta, ever logical Delta. Agent South was left alive because she had none of their siblings, and she leaves alive with Agent Washington as well, Delta having sent a false report on her death to Command. Delta is still with them. The Meta follows. 

The Meta attacks and pins them down in an isolated structure. The Meta is powerful, but Agent Washington is persistent and is able to hold them back from behind his cover. Delta is not with him and they don’t see Agent South. There are quite a few places to hide and the Meta doesn’t like all of this because the Meta remembers when Agent Washington was the worst Freelancer in the squad, and this Agent Washington is a very different individual. From where the Meta fires upon Agent Washington, the Meta sees Agent South approach from behind and they can detect that Delta has been implanted into her. She was never rated for implantation. The Meta takes only a quick moment to be amused that Agent South, who never had an AI, now has their oldest brother. That will be remedied quickly. 

But before the Meta can decide how to change its tactics, everything changes in mere moments. Agent Washington charges forward, a battle rifle goes off behind him seconds later, and he cries out in pain as he falls forward and drops to the level below while Delta flickers to red and yells at Agent South to ‘cease fire’ on a friendly target. The Meta quickly takes the time to reload as the light-purple Freelancer moves out into the open. It keeps the brute shot trained on her as she explains that she put a timed charge on Agent Washington’s armor and that the Meta must choose between scavenging his equipment or going after her and Delta. The Meta would love to go after her – Sigma considers Delta to be their most powerful brother, equal to himself – but the risk of losing Agent Washington’s equipment forever is too high, so the Meta turns away and goes after the equipment. Agent South is right about one thing. She can’t run forever; the Meta _will_ come for her one day soon and they _will_ have Delta.  
  
Little does Sigma know that Agent Washington’s outcry stirred something trapped and hidden deep within the Meta; something that had always been present and whose actions never went unnoticed except that Sigma is currently distracted by the armor enhancement and it’s been _so_ long, so many _years_ , since he’s had to be concerned with the other mind balking and subsequently interfering with his goals.

So he doesn’t notice that Maine is awake.

‘Awake’ isn’t really the proper word for Maine’s current state of mind though; ‘aware’ is more accurate. The most recent memory he has, the last time he was _aware_ , was when he – with Sigma controlling his body and forcing him to watch in helpless horror – ripped Eta and Iota out of Carolina’s head and tossed her over the cliff edge. Carolina – who he had greatly respected and admired above all others – dead by his hands at the will of the AI that was supposed to be hers, that she instead gifted to him to be able to communicate. It was the last straw and it was what finally broke the last of his already then-crumbling mind. He couldn’t fight Sigma. He couldn’t do anything, and so he withdrew. He gathered what little remained of himself and his most precious memories and willingly withdrew deep into the darkest recesses of his mind where he wouldn’t be able to witness whatever further horrors the AI would commit. He could feel Sigma, and then Eta and Iota, rushing in to fill the space he left behind as he retreated and the AI assumed full control of his body.

That was the last thing he remembered, and he’s been trapped in his own mind in his own body for so long that it comes out of nowhere now when he’s almost blinded by the sudden light that’s not fire. There’s the disorientation of seeing and blinking with his own eyes, the wholeness of actually filling in the muscle and organs beneath his skin, the tickling sensation of inhaling air through his own nose, and the dull ache of his throat and air rushing over his mouth in the subsequent exhale. He’s completely overwhelmed by all the stimuli his senses have forgotten and he doesn’t understand how he’s aware again or why Sigma is letting him and so he doesn’t immediately register where his body is moving or what his eyes are seeing until he finally realizes that he’s looking down on a body one level below him and that body is wearing gray Freelancer armor with yellow highlights.

Maine moves.

It doesn’t register in his mind that he’s moving his body of his own accord for the first time in forever longer than his loss of awareness. He doesn’t feel the sharp recoil in his head that is the AI being forcefully shoved aside as his mind quickly struggles to take over muscles and bones and nerves and remember how these things _work!_ He doesn’t even feel the ever-present fire that is Sigma burning at the back of his skull with a conflicted assortment of emotions including shock, confusion, and indignant ire. In this moment, there is only one thing that Maine feels, one thing at all, and it’s cold, gut-wrenching terror that Wash is dead and that – just like with his red-headed sister whose face he shares – it was his own hands that did the deed.  


He’s dropped down by his side and is already reaching for Wash’s neck to find a pulse when Wash gives a barely audible grunt. It stills Maine for a moment as warm, blessed relief washes through him. David’s alive! He’s still _alive!_ Maine resumes his search for a pulse, but at a much less frantic pace now as he also scans Wash’s back for any injuries. There is one. He can’t see the wound properly with the armor surrounding it, but he can see the blood oozing bright red from just under his left shoulder blade and Maine frowns with worry. Wash’s pulse is irregular and the bullets may have punctured his lung. He can’t hear properly with both their helmets on; he’ll have to remove them both and turn Wash over to check his breathing.  


He unhooks his helmet clasps and sets the domed helmet off to his side out of the way. Maine then moves one hand to cover the back of Wash’s neck for support and reaches across his friend to grasp the hip opposite from where he’s kneeling. With his hands secure, he pulls on Wash’s hip and manages to roll him over onto his back without too much difficulty, but now he sees more wounds on his front (one in the right arm and one on the far right side of his stomach – these don’t look too bad). He starts to reach for Wash’s helmet when white-hot fire suddenly surges through him and he lets out a strangled agonized roar. Sigma’s overcome his shock at this unexpected development and he’s _irritated_ (Sigma doesn’t get _angry_ – that’s Omega’s job – but Sigma’s irritation doesn’t feel any different from anger to Maine).

 _//Agent Maine, you’re awake//_ he says and Maine can literally feel the AI’s displeasure dripping off his serpent-smooth tones.

Maine doesn’t acknowledge this line of conversation for even a second because he’s running out of time and he knows what Sigma wants to do and all he can think about is that David was threatened by Sigma long ago when he still had control of his own body back when and he was starting to become aware of Sigma's plans and Sigma had only recently discovered that Wash understood the actual words he growled, not just his body language.

_//Agent Maine, you’ve been asleep for a long time. Your body is tired and not used to all this. Why don’t you just rest?//_

He _is_ tired, but he knows it’s not his body. It’s Sigma. Sigma is powerful and Maine wasn’t strong enough in spirit to fight him off in the beginning. There’s no way he can do it now. He’s tired and he can feel his body fighting him – Sigma’s work, he knows, now that the AI has recovered his wits and is trying to subdue him again – as he struggles to reach for Wash’s helmet clasps. He succeeds – a small victory – and cradles Wash’s head as he fumbles with the clasps, trying to open them with his fingers that won’t respond properly because Sigma’s interfering. There’s a snap and a hiss indicating the helmet’s unsealed and Maine quickly flings it away. It’s the first time he’s seen Wash with his helmet off since Epsilon had been removed from his head, the first time he’s seen David’s face in _years_ and he can’t even take the time to notice the changes that have taken place in his best friend while he’s been gone.  


He places his hands palms-down on either side of Wash’s head and lowers his body, head tilted sideways, all the way down until he can hear Wash breathing in his ear. It’s not good. It’s rattling and gasping, which confirms that his lung was indeed punctured and Wash will die if he doesn’t get help soon, but Maine has nothing and there’s nothing he can do. He pulls away and sits back on his heels with despair in his heart as he’s helpless once more and forced to watch another friend die at his hands because he might as well have pulled the trigger himself for all the good he can do now.  


He feels Sigma pushing forward back to the forefront of his mind and he doesn’t resist. Sigma makes things easy and effortless and it’s been this way for so long, it’s almost natural how quickly Sigma begins to reestablish himself as the dominant entity. Maine’s not asleep, but he’s aware that his body is already moving on its own, cued from commands sent by Sigma, no doubt. He thinks he hears Sigma say _//Of course there’s no timed charge…//_ in a rather bitter tone, but he’s not really paying attention anymore. He’s only momentarily surprised that Sigma doesn’t immediately put his helmet back on (but figures Sigma must not be too bothered by the lack of it at present) and shifts his attention to the armor power pack on Wash’s back. Unlike Maine, Sigma doesn’t care about Washington’s desperate need for medical attention and isn’t gentle or even careful when he turns Wash back over onto his stomach (Maine would have growled if he could). Sigma removes the back panel of the power supply core and Maine knows he’s going after Wash’s armor enhancement, the portable E.M.P., even though he can’t imagine how the AI would be able to use it without being destroyed.  


A sudden spike of excitement causes him to cringe and refocus on the outside world again. The emotion came from Sigma and Maine is confused because finding the E.M.P. unit wouldn’t have caused the fiery AI to react like that. He focuses on the power core and he very quickly realizes what it was that caused Sigma’s reaction, because his own is very similar. Squeezed in next to the E.M.P. unit is York’s healing unit and the lack of blinking lights indicates it’s off. Maine frowns. Sigma is already working to remove the E.M.P. unit, but Maine knows as soon as he’s finished, he’ll remove the healing unit too. He thinks fast. Sigma’s not completely unaware this time. He’ll only have one chance at this and it will probably be the toughest thing he’s ever done in his life. But without that healing unit, David will die. Maine steels himself for the inevitable. He waits and hides his thoughts, biding his time while the distracted AI works diligently on removing the E.M.P.

The E.M.P. is removed. It’s temporarily secured to his waist. Sigma moves in to do the same to the healing unit. Maine watches. His hands approach the device. Maine tenses. His fingers begin to pass over the power button on the way to unscrew it. Maine pounces. Like the tank he used to be during Project Freelancer missions, he practically bowls over Sigma as he once again refills the places that used to be entirely his. Not even a second later, he presses the power button on the healing unit and sees it begin to pulse bright green – a sign that it’s active and working – as he replaces the armor’s power pack panel on Wash and reseals it. He has no idea how much time he has – he thinks maybe Sigma is the AI-equivalent of ‘dazed’ from his attack – so he works fast. The healing unit will help, but it will ultimately only prolong Wash’s demise and he needs real medical attention, so Maine activates his recovery beacon as well (why had it not gone off already?), to make sure they find him, and rolls him onto his back again.  


Maine’s about to stand up and leave while he still can, but he takes one last look at Wash’s face, and it causes him to stop and stare. It’s different from how he remembers. His hair is still a fair blond, but it’s a little tamer, a little shorter (maybe he had a haircut recently), and a few stray silver hairs are speckled here and there. There are new scars on his face that he doesn’t know the story for. Worse, there are new lines around his eyes, mouth, and eyebrows that were never there before, along with the solid set of his jaw and general tenseness of his face. His entire countenance seems much colder than it used to be and he wonders briefly if his beautiful gray eyes would reflect that same terse sternness that seems to be emanating from him, even while unconscious.  


He’s waited too long. He can already feel Sigma ‘shaking it off’, so to speak, and regaining his composure, and Wash still isn’t safe from him yet, but still he lingers. Wash is so close and his heart aches for more and he _knows_ he will never have a chance like this again. Sigma will make sure of that; the AI won’t be caught off-guard again.

So Maine seizes the moment.

He leans over David and cradles his face in his hands again, then covers his lips with his own. Maine’s never kissed David like this before, unresponsive and unconscious and it feels strange, but the sensation of kissing him again is achingly familiar and he drinks it all in, absorbing as much sensory information about his lover – the feel of his cheeks, the taste of his lips, his sweat-soaked scent – as he can possibly grasp in the few seconds he gives himself.  


He pulls away, whispers “I’m sorry, David” in a breathy growl that only David would have been able to understand anyway, and hastily grabs his helmet as he stands up. His movements are more jerky than normal; he’s losing control. He whips around and starts running away as fast and as far away from Wash as he can get. He slips his helmet back on and seals it shut as his eyes scan around the fortress-like structure for any vehicle he might be able to use to get even farther away.  


He’s back on the top level when he sees the Warthog. He bolts toward it when Sigma screams _//NO!//_ and his legs lock up and he crashes face first onto the stone floor, only halfway to his goal. No, he can’t lose now! He’s too close! He’s still too close!

 _//We are **not** leaving without that healing unit, Agent Maine//_ Sigma declares and Maine still can’t move his legs, but neither can Sigma because Maine will _not_ lose this time!

It’s hard, it’s _so_ damn hard, and it’s like he’s pushing against a wall to keep Sigma from advancing and consuming him once more. But Maine has always been good at breaking walls and this time if he loses, he also loses Wash. So, he gathers his strength and does what he’s good at. In his mind, he body slams the wall and it crashes in on top of Sigma and suddenly his legs are his own again and he’s barely standing up again before he throws himself the last few meters into the Warthog’s driver seat and slams his foot on the gas. The tires screech and rubber burns at the sudden acceleration from 0 to 200 km/h. He doesn’t stop and he doesn’t apply the brake if he can help it. He just swerves to avoid the obstacles and there are unexpected holes that he’s forced to jump without warning and he breathes a sigh of relief every time he manages to do so without having the jeep flip over on him.  


Maine manages to leave the stone fortress in-tact and still he drives because he’s still too close, but the adrenaline is leaving him and his urgency is less and Sigma takes advantage of this. He fights back with bitter desperation and every ounce of his being, but he can still feel his muscles starting to seize up in spite of himself. Soon, he’ll lose himself completely and it won’t matter how strongly he loves David and needs him to survive this. Maine knows one foolproof way to stop Sigma though, and he prays that it will work. He drives for as long as he dares while Sigma works to regain control and he keeps an eye out, watching the rocky landscape. He sees a tall protruding rock, large enough to be a hill and tall enough to get the job done, and he guns for it. The Warthog runs right up the rock and he’s about to crest the top and he knows this is it. This is the end for him and he’s content with that, because nobody is looking for him, the rock is high up, the landscape is spiky, and even _he_ can’t survive a vehicle explosion if the other two things don’t manage to kill him first. Wash will be safe from him and Sigma if he’s dead.

But Sigma fucks up his plan.

At the last second, Sigma seizes control of his arms and jerks the wheel sharply to the left just before he reaches the end of the rock and the vehicle is suddenly spinning counter-clockwise through the air as it falls and bounces with a metallic crunch several times off the cliff face until it hits the bottom with a heavy thud and a sharp recoil that whips straight through Maine and knocks him out instantly.

He’s still alive.

He’s not happy about that, but at least he’s unconscious. Death would have been a permanent solution, but unconscious still means that Sigma can’t move his body around, so Maine supposes he succeeded at that part of his plan at least. He just hopes he’s unconscious long enough for someone to find and help David. He knows Sigma’s back in control again (for all the good that does him at the moment) because he can feel the other AIs moving back to the front where Sigma resides. He realizes his mind feels more crowded than before and wonders why until he feels a sense of shyness and childish naïveté and he stills. It’s Theta. He has Theta inside his head now and he cringes away from it, not wanting to think about what that must mean – what he must have done to North (and South by extension).  


As the AIs fill his head and overcrowd and suffocate him, Maine quickly pulls back and brings his new memories with him. He doesn’t withdraw completely like last time, but he’s not fully cohesive either. Wash is alive, but so is he, and that can’t bode well. Wash doesn’t have Delta anymore, so Sigma shouldn’t want to go after him, but he does still possess the healing unit, and Maine honestly doesn’t know what Sigma plans to do. This is the first time he’s ever fought and _won_ against Sigma at all, and it was only because of Wash. And so he decides, in his new state of partial awareness, that until Sigma is stopped, he’ll protect David from himself until he no longer can.

The Meta is _not_ happy.

Sigma would be inclined to say he’s _furious_ , except that it’s not supposed to be an emotion he can feel yet. The Meta never _calculated_ that Agent Maine would ever resurface to the front without warning. The Meta never _imagined_ that he would do so quickly and violently and even manage to fight against him in order to not only check on Agent Washington’s health, but to also activate the healing unit to save his life, _leave_ the healing unit with him, and then drive away at breakneck speed to crash over the edge of a cliff face in an attempt to kill himself. Historically, Agent Maine had been completely incapable of fighting the Meta so completely and this recent victory is entirely unprecedented. The only variable that changed was Agent Washington’s presence, his life in jeopardy.  


The Meta thinks on this and tries to analyze it. The only other personal experience that Sigma has with Agent Maine and Agent Washington on the subject of Agent Washington’s life is when Sigma threatened it after he realized that Agent Washington could understand the words that his otherwise-mute host was saying in the growling and hissing vocalizations he was limited to, and Agent Maine was about to reveal all of his plans, still in motion, to the gray-armored Freelancer. This time, the Meta was the threat, and Agent Maine fought back viciously to save and protect the man he loved. For the Meta, this meant only one thing: Agent Washington was a threat to the integrity and stability of the Meta and must be eliminated as soon as possible.  


This posed a problem for the Meta because if they tried to eliminate him, Agent Maine would only get in the way and attempt to thwart them. Even now, the Meta could sense that Agent Maine was not fully dormant like he had been for the past several years. Sigma could clearly see that he was waiting on stand-by for the moment when he needed to come forward to protect Agent Washington from him. It annoyed the Meta because he was strong, but Agent Maine was stubborn, persistent, and immovable when it came to his loved ones, and Sigma was forced to admit that he couldn’t completely contain Agent Maine where the Agent Washington variable was present. The Meta needed to collect more of the AI fragments, more of their siblings (but where? Agent South had disappeared with Delta, Texas- Beta- _Allison_ was on the run with Omega, and Gamma and the _Alpha_ were still hidden somewhere unknown), to become stronger and be able to sufficiently subdue Agent Maine in such a situation.  


That was the Meta’s current solution to the problem, but it was still unsettled and irritated. It wasn’t enough. A good bit of the Meta’s recent work being turned over on its head and being forced to rework plans to compensate for new complications, Sigma wanted a bit of revenge – something he had a bit of a concept of thanks to the sleeveless Insurrectionist from the freeway – against his host that was just as responsible for this setback as Agent Washington.

 _//Enjoy your victory here, Agent Maine, because it won’t happen again. We **will** kill Agent Washington, and when we do, you’ll be forced to watch//_ Sigma promised and smirked when he felt a shudder of fear spread out from the darkness where Agent Maine had withdrawn.

  


()()()()()

  


When Command picks up Agent Washington’s recovery beacon, they dispatch a team complete with both a medical team and a bomb squad because really, the recovery beacon didn’t indicate an agent’s current status, so fuck it, might as well bring the whole force. The Pelican finds him in an old fortress structure unconscious on his back with his helmet off and an active healing unit being the only thing that’s kept him alive this long. They have no idea what the fuck happened, but it looks like the medical team wins this round, so suck it bomb squad!  


One guy is sent off to get the helmet and the others carefully try to move the unconscious agent into the Pelican where they can hook him up to equipment and get a better read on his status. They’re either too busy to notice or they just don’t care, but nobody comments on the shiny tear streaks from the corners of his eyes down the side of his face to his ears. It’s not like they could figure out why he was crying just by looking at him anyway.

  


()()()()()

  


When Washington wakes up in the Recovery ward, for a split-second, he’s terrified that he’s still got Epsilon in his head and that everything he thought had happened was just a dream, but his body aches and feels stiff in the same places where he remembers being shot and he manages to relax. Epsilon is still gone, South shot him in the back and he lost consciousness, and Command must have found him somehow which is why he’s alive (that would have had to be pretty quick though), but he doesn’t know how because he had no AI, so a recovery beacon wouldn’t have activated for him, even though it was standard issue for all Freelancer armor.

“Oh, sir, you’re awake. That’s good.”

Wash quickly whirls on the source of the voice, a white-suited doctor whose face is covered by a helmet, and simply stares at him.

“We were afraid you weren’t gonna make it, sir,” the doctor explains. “The bullets in your arm and your side weren’t particularly worrying, but the shot in your back punctured your lung and we were concerned about it collapsing or filling with blood and drowning you before we could get everything fixed up. The healing unit you had on you was what kept you stable the entire time we worked. Honestly, you probably would have died before we’d even arrived on the scene, if you didn’t have the healing unit on you. Lucky break, right?”

“Yeah. Lucky,” Wash agrees blankly, trying not to remember another Freelancer, another dead friend, and his comments about luck _‘I’d rather be lucky than good any day’._

“Well, I’ve got no reason to keep you here anymore, but the Counselor wanted to see you for a debriefing as soon as you woke up, so there you have it.”

“Alright then,” Wash replies as he stands up from the Recovery bed.

“Oh, you were crying in your sleep,” the doctor starts from out of nowhere, “Did you have a bad dream or something?”

Wash gives him a positively _nasty_ look because even if he did, that’s none of his business, but he can feel the tear lines from his eyes to his ears and internally, he’s confused, because if it was a dream, he can’t remember why he was crying. Giving a slight shake of his head, he notices his helmet sitting on the table beside him. He wonders why it wasn’t on his head, then replaces it back on and moves out of the ward with purpose, pretending the soreness in his back doesn’t bother him, that the fact that the bullet punctured his lung doesn’t bother him at all. He tries not to think of anything except that he’s thankful it’s just the Counselor – even though he hates him – in charge of the debriefing, and not the Director as well. The less he has to deal with his old man, the better.

He enters the debriefing room and predictably, the Counselor’s face is already visible on the screen and waiting for him. “Agent Washington. Good to see you alive and well,” he says, his voice as polite and unperturbed as ever.

Wash frowns and arches an eyebrow – an expression he doesn’t need to make because nobody can actually see it under the helmet, but it helps convey that air about him – at the Counselor as he takes a seat in one of the few chairs actually present in the room. “Alive, yes, though my back would disagree with you on the ‘well’ part,” he states in clipped tones.

“Perhaps you could recount to us what you remember about the incident,” the Counselor suggests in that annoying way of his that indicates it’s not really a suggestion.

Wash settles into his chair and begins, “Well. From my calls to Command, you already know that I found York’s body, armor enhancement, and AI all present – in what I believe was an unrelated incident to the series of Freelancer attacks the past few weeks – before I got the Level One recovery beacon for North after having detached the armor enhancement, transferred Delta to my storage unit and blew up York’s body as per protocol. When I arrived on the scene, North was dead, South was knocked out, North’s armor enhancement was gone – I can only assume South’s was too – and so was Theta.”

He shifts uneasily. He doesn’t want to admit his lie, but with the situation he’s in, he has no choice.

“I faked South’s death over the radio and logged in a similar body disposal dataset to North’s so that I could take her with me and she could use Delta because whatever had killed North, I knew it was going to come after me with Delta and I needed another body to transport him while I tried to stop whatever it is I’ve been chasing after.” Wash clenches his jaw and his hands squeeze into fists. “Turned out that didn’t work out so well for me because as soon as South got Delta and I moved to give her covering fire, she shot me in the back and left me to die while she took off with Delta and left me with the Freelancer-AI Hunter. Back in the Recovery ward, the doctor told me that the bullet punctured my lung and I would have been dead without York’s healing unit.”

The Counselor is silent and looks thoughtful as he considers what Wash has just said. “We were already fully aware that you faked Agent South’s death,” the Counselor says at last and Wash can feel his outrage spike as soon as the words leave the man’s mouth. They _knew!_ And they _allowed_ it! “You were unaware, but she was secretly acting as Recovery Two, as a backup so to speak. She radioed in, shortly after the encounter presumably, and declared you were KIA at the hands of the enemy before going AWOL herself and taking the Delta AI with her.”

Wash scowls darkly. “ _Nice_ to be kept in the loop about shit that’s going on around me,” he snips sarcastically.

The Counselor continues on like he hasn’t said anything at all. “Agent Washington, you were unconscious for several hours and in the presence of an enemy who has been hunting Freelancers for their armor enhancements and their AIs. You no longer had the Delta AI in your possession, but your recovery beacon was still activated and you were not dead. Do you have any idea why?”

Wash gives him the driest, most deadpan ‘Are you fucking serious?’ _Look_ he can muster (which is quite impressive given that he’s wearing his helmet) as he says, quite plainly and with more than a little irritation on his part. “ _No_. No, I don’t. As you so _generously_ pointed out Counselor, I was _unconscious_ for several hours and the first time I was aware of _anything_ , I was already in the back of the Pelican, so _you_ tell _me_.”

The bastard just rolls right on over to the next line of questioning, completely ignoring him. “The medical team field report indicates that you were found on your back with a bullet wound in your right arm, the far right side of your stomach, and in your back under your left soldier blade with the healing unit active and your helmet a good six meters distance away from your body; is this correct?”

_He doesn’t remember that. Why was his helmet off? Something’s wrong. This is all wrong._

He shrugs indifferently at the question. “If the report says it is,” he replies.

“One last question, Agent Washington,” the Counselor says and Wash almost exhales an audible ‘oh thank god’ in response. “We performed an analysis assessment of your armor when you were brought in and we discovered that your armor enhancement, the portable E.M.P. unit, was gone.” Wash sits up in shock. “We can logically assume that it was removed from your person by our mysterious Freelancer Hunter, but this does not explain why you still possessed the healing unit when you were extracted from the site by the medical team. With such an assumption, it would only make sense that the Hunter would have taken both the E.M.P. _and_ the healing unit, instead of just leaving the one, unless perhaps saving your life was more important than taking the healing unit for themselves. What do you think, Agent Washington?”

_His life more impor- No, it can’t be! That would mean-! His breath catches in his throat. He can’t breathe! He can’t-!_

“I think that I’m not _paid_ to _think_ , Counselor,” Wash grounds out through clenched teeth, “But as I said before. I was unconscious. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. I don’t know _anything_ about what happened to me during that time.”

“I see…” the Counselor says slowly, and for one panicked moment, Wash fears that he really _does_ see, but then he says, “Thank you for your time, Agent Washington. You’re dismissed.”

Wash walks out of the room as calm and composed as he was when he first entered and he doesn’t drop it for even a second until he’s in his room and he’s locked the door behind him. Instantly, he jerks off his helmet and hurls it against the far wall with a tortured scream and body slams his back against the door, covering his face with his hands as he slides down to the ground and a choked sob escapes him.  


He really doesn’t fucking know what happened, but he can hazard a guess and his heart aches with the potential implications, because there’s one important detail that only Wash knows about the whole event that he hasn’t – and won’t – tell anyone: Wash hadn’t turned on York’s healing unit, yet everyone is in agreement that the healing unit was active and Wash was only alive now because of that.  


There are things that don’t align right; his helmet was off (he knows he didn’t take it off himself), he was on his back when he was found (he fell unconscious laying on his stomach face down), his recovery beacon was on (he didn’t have an AI to warrant the call), and the healing unit was turned on (he never did that) and not missing (though his E.M.P. unit was). It can only mean one thing; somebody else did these things to Wash when he was unconscious and the only other person known to be in the area at the time was the Freelancer Hunter.  


Wash knows, as sure as stars die, that there is only one person still alive out there that would go to such lengths to save him, and it breaks what remains of his heart because if he’s right (goddamnit, he _knows_ he is!), then Maine has been the one killing their friends, but Wash isn’t dead with them, and that’s significant. Something else- the AI fragments- _Sigma_ is taking Maine’s body out for a joyride and Maine, _his_ Maine trapped somewhere inside, is the entire reason he survived.  


Suddenly, a fragment of the dream comes rushing back to him, only now he wonders if it really was a dream, because he can’t see, but _he can feel Maine’s large hands gently caressing his cheeks and he can feel the air being sucked out of his lungs from Maine’s lips covering his, and he wants more, but he can’t move, and the kiss ends far too quickly when Maine withdraws and his voice sounds breathless as he whispers “I’m sorry, David” before he pulls away completely and Wash can’t stop him because he can’t see and he can’t move and tears fall down his face because he knows this is the last moment they’ll have together and he doesn’t even have the ability to say goodbye, even though he wouldn’t if he was given the chance._  


Wash grips the roots of his blond hair and further curls into himself, pressing the backs of his hands against his knees as yet more tears trickle down his face from gray eyes flecked with blue. There is nothing to break the silence, but his own shuddering gasps and pitiful broken whispers of “God _damn_ it… _Maine_ …” as he mourns for whatever remains of his lost love.

**Author's Note:**

> I considered many variations of how to write the events. Some things HAD to happen and some didn't. I could have gone really cut and dry with this, but I'm a sap for these two and I've never written for my second RvB OTP, nor have I ever actually wrote for any of my homosexual ships before (since all in all, I don't have very many across the totality of my fandoms).


End file.
